Total Victim Theory (48 page)

“What is it?” I ask.

“It's just you, Nicole. You never cease to amaze me.”

I watch him, not understanding.

“The thing is—is that I care about you.” He stares intently into my eyes. “And when you care about someone, that person becomes part of you. They change you and you're never the same again. And whatever happens, they live inside you every time you remember them. Do you know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure,” I say.

“You're gonna live inside me, Nicole.” His voice is a whisper now. “And I promise I'm always going to remember you.”

Suddenly, I hear a crisp, metallic click somewhere near me. Looking down, I see that he’s slipped a handcuff around my left wrist. Before I can even flinch, he's hooked the other arm around the bed's iron headboard.

“What are you doing?” I shout, trying in vain to jerk my arm free.

Luke stands and walks away from me. I stare at the handcuffs in disbelief.

“What's going on, Luke?” I say, my voice almost hysterical.

He says nothing.

“This is still happening. Even after everything?”

He’s says nothing.

“Was all of this just part of the routine?” I ask.

He's facing out the window. “Let's don't talk anymore. It's like you said last night. It's not about words. In our hearts we know what we know.”

“So you're just a monster after all? After all this, you're a
monster just like your brother?”

“Are you sure I don't consider that a compliment?”

“I can't believe it,” I say tears coming into my eyes. “This can't be true.”

“It's true, Nicole.”

“I was so overjoyed when I saw it was you last night. The whole time in the trunk, I thought it was him—your brother—who'd taken me.” I raise my voice, almost shouting with rage. “But now I wish it would have been him. Whatever pain he would have put me through—it's nothing compared to this.”

Luke gazes out the window. “Careful what you wish for.”

Moments later, I hear the hum of an engine, far off in the distance.

61

Colorado

The engine cuts off. A car door slams. Footsteps tread over the snowy ground.

Finally, a heavy knock at the cabin door.

Luke moves from the window to the door and opens it.

A tall, broad-shouldered man fills the doorway. He’s got sharp, narrow features, dark skin, and deep-set eyes. In one hand he holds a brown paper bag. In the other he has a long, wooden-handled ax.

It only takes me a second to put all the horrible pieces together. To know who this man is and why he's here.

The man smiles. “Looks like we pulled it off,” he says to Luke. “Slick as slime.”

“Looks that way,” Luke agrees and gestures for the man to enter.

The man steps inside and leans the ax against the wall to the right of the doorway. He takes his hat off and looks me over. “So, this is the one that got you in such a twist?”

Luke doesn't respond but turns to me and says, “Nicole, this is Tad. My big brother.”

Ropes himself is standing a few feet from me. It almost makes me want to laugh. Was all the rest that's happened not enough? But I suppose this is the worthy finale of my twisted fate.

Tad reaches into the paper sack and takes out a meat cleaver, a knife with a black handle, and a coil of yellow rope. He sets the three items on the rocking chair in front of the bed. I think he wants me to see them. To look at them.

Tad turns to Luke. “Can I bum a smoke?”

Luke holds out the purple pack, and Tad fishes one out. “Virginia Slims, huh?” Tad offers Luke a questionable glance. “I knew your balls were in danger, but I didn't know it had come to this.”

Luke says nothing.

“Where's your sense of humor, bro?” asks Tad, lighting the smoke with a lighter from the windowsill. “You used to be such a funny little fucker.”

Tad takes a big puff and lets it fill his lungs. Then he leans close to Luke and asks confidentially, “What do you say we just do it the way we used to, for old time’s sake?”

“Whatever you want,” says Luke.

“You could show a little enthusiasm, Luke. This is supposed to be a good time.” Tad turns to me. “How about you, beautiful? You feeling excited?”

I say nothing. I'm sure they want me to scream and cry and beg for my life. Maybe that's their whole reason for doing it. So my silence is the one card I hold. The one weak way I can strike out at them. To take away the meaning they get from this sick ceremony.

Tad steps forward and leans over me. He bends his knees so his head is close and scowls at me. His mouth opens into a toothy jack-o-lantern grin.

I don’t let my face react in any way.

“I asked you if you were excited, Nicole. Where I'm from, it’s polite to answer people when they talk to you,” Tad says.

Again, I say nothing.

Behind us, Luke stares blankly out the window. An almost catatonic glaze over his eyes.

Tad makes a fist. Let's it hover there in the space in front of me. Turns it from side to side, displaying it from every angle. It's wide and boney, with knuckles that look like they would prick your skin just from touching them.

Now he pulls his forearm back a foot or so in a motion of feigned deliberation.

A dramatic pause—two seconds.

Then his fist shoots forward at my face.

A flash of white light. As my head snaps back and my eyes roll back in their sockets. Pain radiates out from my nose, and I feel
my eyes well up with tears. A moment later, a trickle of blood ventures from my nostril, and soon I taste it on my lip.

Seething with rage, I try to swing at him or bite him or kick him in the balls—hurt him, however I can, no matter what he does to me in return. But he's already stepped back out of range and I'm left ineffectually failing about on the bed.

“Good, at least that's a reaction.” Tad stands for a moment stroking the hair on his chin. “You know, this is a very special night for Luke and me. It's a family reunion. The fact that you've been chosen to share in the festivities kind of makes you a big deal.”

I want so bad to scream at him—to unleash a torrent of rage and obscenity—but somehow I keep silent.

“Come on, Nicole,” he says. “Don't you want to tell me to fuck myself?”

Now he steps toward me again and grabs my free hand. I flail and pull away, but his grip's too strong. Like his bones are made of metal. No sooner do I realize what he aims to do, than I feel the lit end of his Virginia Slim being burned into the back of my hand.

Despite my best efforts to hold it in, a cry escapes my lips. For several seconds, he holds the butt against me twisting it till it's extinguished. Then he flicks it on the ground and again steps back. I clamp my jaw tightly shut. Trying not to let another peep escape my lips. Trying not to cry.

Thoughts of everything that's going to happen to my body over the next few hours race through me. The things Bloom told me Ropes does to them. A cigarette burn is practically a gesture of affection, compared with what's to come.

Tad and I sit staring at one another, as if we’re both waiting for something to happen.

Finally, Tad gives me a little wink and then glances over at Luke. “Well, what do you say we get her done?”

Luke gives a nod.

Tad picks up the coil of rope and the black-handled knife from the rocking chair. He measures out five or six feet of the rope and saws at it till the length is cut loose from the coil.

“You want to grab her feet so she doesn't kick,” Tad says.

The next moment, both men are poised ready to lunge at me in unison. A look passes between them, a signal to go ahead. The next instant, I'm pressed flat against the bed and held motionless.
Their hands are like vices. My thrashing accomplishes nothing.

Soon my wrists and ankles are bound together, arms in front of me, legs tied together just above the ankle. Tad gives a tug to make sure the ropes are tight. I recognize the noose-like knots. Like the one that hung from Jessica's arm that day. Bloom told me they use the knots like a tourniquet. To keep people from bleeding out after something gets cut off.

Their motions, in holding me down and tying me up, feel well rehearsed. They must be remembering the old routine. The roles they played when they were kids.

Tad hoists me into a seated position. “You ready to begin, Miss Nicole?” says Tad. He's sitting next to me on the bed, his face close to mine.

I gather as much saliva as I can on my tongue and spit into his face. Most of it lands on his cheek and slides slowly down. He doesn't wipe it off, but just smiles.

“Nicole, I'll let you in on a little secret—my favorite people are the ones that spit. Defiance is the whole point. Who would watch a bullfight if the bulls rolled over and played dead?” Finally, he wipes it off on his sleeve. “But you know what, Nicole—as hard as it is to imagine right now—in a couple of hours, all that defiance will be gone. And you know how I'll know when the last drop is squeezed out of you?” Tad looks into my eyes. “Because you'll be begging me to kill you.”

I just hold his stare. Watch him smiling at me.

Luke's retreated to the window again. He seems disconnected. Like he's not paying attention to any of this.

Tad picks up the black-handled knife from the rocking chair. “We’re going to start with your eyes, Nicole,” he says, approaching me.

I pull away as far as I can, yanking at the bed frame until the metal arm of the cuff digs into my wrist.

Tad holds out the knife. Shows me the blade.

The reality of this is sinking in now. The reality of the pain that's coming. The reality that this may be the end of the line. I keep thinking Luke will do something. Have some miraculous change of heart at the last second. But that hope is only going to make this worse. I need to let it go. He's the one who set this up. He worked it all out with his brother so it would unfold just like
this. And he's gonna watch this happen and maybe he’s even going to enjoy it.

All he is, is the snake. The good parts were just the mask. And every impulse I had to believe in him and think that he could change is just proof of his evil. And my stupidity.

I want so badly to cry out to him, but I won't. I won't say any ridiculous prayers aimed at his empty heart. He's got plenty to laugh about already, when he and Tad are divvying me up into mementos.

It's crazy because you always think that hope and love will win out in the end. But I'm here now, just because of that hope. I bet on him and I took a risk that there was something salvageable inside. But there wasn’t. I guess, in some cases, love doesn't conquer all. In some cases, it gets used against you and preyed upon.

Tad grabs me by the hair and yanks a thick handful of it straight up. I cry out. An explosion of pain. A ripping sound as strands are uprooted from my scalp. I squirm around like a hooked fish thrashing about on a line.

The knife is coming near me. He brings the tip so close to my eye. I squeeze both eyes shut. “No, no. . . .” I plead with him, jerking my head away the few centimeters of latitude my hair allows.

“Don’t you want to open your eyes, Nicole?” Tad asks. “You’re only going to have them for a few minutes more.”

I keep them closed. I can feel him near me. I can sense the tip of the blade hovering there.

A moment of waiting in the darkness.

Then finally, the first prick comes. It's finally happening after all. The universe will not call a timeout or step in on my behalf.

The prick stings, but nothing more. The blade just rests there, poking the lid, not going any deeper.

“Okay, Nicole, in thirty seconds, I’m going to push the blade all the way in. It won’t hurt as bad as you think. And then we’ll do it again with the other eye. Are you ready, Nicole?”

I realize I'm making tiny rhythmic whimperings. Like a cold dog who wants to be let in. I'm whispering to him too. The sounds I'm saying are words. “Please, please, no. Please, don’t.” I promised myself it wouldn’t be like this. No begging or praying to him. But
my lips do it on their own accord. “God help me. Help me. Please someone help me.”

My eyes in desperation dart around. They go a last time to Luke. But he's not even looking.

“That’s the thing, Nicole. There’s no one that can help you. No one in the whole wide world can stop this little blade from going into your eye. That’s the message we want to get across.”

“Luke,” I say, my eyes blurry with tears.

“Luke’s not going to help you. He's looks like a nice guy with that pretty face of his, but he loves this shit as much as I do. We used to do it just like this when we were little kids. I even remember the first time. Do you remember, Luke?”

Luke doesn’t answer.

“Of course you do. The girl from down the street. Ann Marie—that was her name. She was our first. At least the first where we were on our own. It happened in the upstairs bathroom when our parents were out of town. I wish you could have seen it, Nicole. She was the cutest little girl. She was wearing a little pink nightgown when I took her. What we did to her was so beautiful. It changed me forever.”

A silence passes.

“Anyway, Nicole. You'll have to excuse my nostalgic digressions. You see, I'm the sentimental type. I cherish my memories more than anything. But where were we? . . . Right, we were about to get rid of that eye.” Tad looks at his watch. “Here we go, no more interruptions, I promise. Ten, nine, eight—”

“You don't have to do this.”

“Seven, six, five—”

“Please, no,” I whisper.

“Four, three, two—

Then in those last few seconds, I stop pulling away and I stop pleading. I just hold still and close my eyes.

“One, zero—”

62

Colorado

Tad stands in front of me, the knife at his side. He rolls the handle in his palm so the blade turns. The tip is wet. It shimmers. There's an excited energy in his movements. A fidgetiness as he gets ready to do the other side.

“I told you it wouldn't be that bad,” he says. Then he watches my face for a reaction, but I'm in control again and I don't make one.

There's a long silence. Waiting is an important part of this for him.